The Cat On My Left

It begins with a dot 

that marks the hand that without dispute belongs to her. 

While it stays to the right, 

I know not whether her position to my left is intentional or coincidental, 

but regardless it is delightful irony. 

This left-brained lady of math and science 

is marked by the side of pure ingenuity. 

Many a fall day these hands of tan have gripped a ferocious stick of Thor 

that fills tranquil green fields with the battle cries of a red sea.

This cat strays far from the whims of the kitten, 

but the purple haze of her nails is indicative 

of both her care to maintain self-respect 

and the playful spirit of times now ancient in our teenage retrospect. 

This hand's implement creates scribbles for one and insightful masterpieces to others, 

but its motion is a revelation of her silent fire, materialized both within and external.